


Burnin' Through the Sky

by paradiamond



Category: Good Omens (TV), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angel & Demon AU, Context: GO is set in the 90s so the 80s would be just before the book, Good Omens AU, Harringrove, M/M, a very direct crossover, billy pov, in spirit - Freeform, no book characters appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 09:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17999678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradiamond/pseuds/paradiamond
Summary: Hargrove, a Demon, is sent to the middle of nowhere in Indiana to investigate a possible rogue agent. The only good part is that Harrington, his Angelic counterpart and enemy-turned-friend, will be there too. After thousands of years of dancing around each other, they finally make some progress. Maybe.





	Burnin' Through the Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative titles;  
> After Staff Meeting Four Hundred Thousand and Five  
> Boring, Midwestern Omens  
> Angels and Dickheads  
> against the rulers, against the authorities, Against the Machine

“I hereby call to order this Meeting, it being number four hundred thousand and five, and a recognized Meeting of the Staff of Hell on Earth.” 

Some scattered affirmative replies from the demons who weren’t Hargrove and who weren’t sitting so far down in their chairs that the back of their necks were on the part where their backs should be and their asses tantalizingly close to vacating the several thousand dollar chairs entirely.

Shiny room, full of fancy stuff with shiny metal fixtures. Food at the back. Peak 80s everything, ungodly tacky, money for the sake of money. Hargrove loved these 80s. Better than any other 80s so far. 

At the head of the table, Depach, Lesser Prince of Hell and Midwest Regional Manager, fixed him with a stern look. All the other demons looked too, their beady eyes and ill-fitting person-suits straining at the seams. They didn’t spend nearly as much time up on the surface as Hargrove did, and it showed. Malthus even still had a beak. 

“Hargrove, do sit up.” 

Hargrove shot him a glare over the rims of his dark glasses, still annoyed. Around his head, smoke drifted up in lazy rings. They’d pulled him out of a particularly fabulous club an hour ago, wearing jeans he’d had to pour himself into, fingerless gloves, a leather jacket, the glasses, his perennial earring and necklace, and nothing else. It wasn’t the most professional look, and he wasn't in any kind of mood for any of this. Not that they’d know. 

He dragged himself up, only to slump forward, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin in the little space made by his wrists. He liked having a human body. 

Depach fixed him with a long look, then decided it wasn’t worth it. With Hargrove it never was. “We must recount the Deeds of the Day.”

Excited rustling around the table. Hargrove rolled his eyes. He loved his work, he did, but they made it so embarrassing sometimes. Hell’s fanboys, all of them. 

They went around the table. Hargrove drifted, barely listening. Most of them confused general misery for a job well done. Depach had to explain to Nix, again, that killing humans before their souls were corrupted didn’t actually do anything for the cause, it just took them out of the game. Pointless. 

“And what of you, Hargrove? What have you done of late to secure souls for our Dominion?” 

Hargrove drummed his hands on the table. “Ok so, last week I broke into a furniture factory and messed up the specifications for school desks, so all of them are gonna get wobbly sooner rather than later. It’ll drive the kids crazy.” 

A very long pause. 

“And?” 

Hargrove sat up. “ _And_ on my off days I’ve been specializing in envy. Self-image in this decade is really taking off, so I make them-” 

“Hargrove. You continue to waste time on these petty projects. What of their souls?” 

All around the table, the others smirked and shifted around in their seats, excited for his dressing down. Depach was even worse than Nix. If he had his way he’d see Hargrove pick at one soul for weeks and weeks, ignoring the bigger picture for one sure thing. They couldn't see it, none of them. 

What Hargrove had done was ensure that all across the country, those desks would make the students distractible and their teachers irate. Ordinarily good kids, ordinarily good teachers, and they’d take it out on the students, vulnerable young souls, prone to weakness and prime to the opinions of the adults meant to nurture them. Hargrove outsourced the corruption to a much better sales team, the humans themselves. 

It was the same at night, in the clubs. He excelled at Image, making himself an icon, a muse of self doubt, self hatred. He looked better than them, danced like they wanted to dance, seeped sex out of his pores, and never quite sealed the deal, making them so mad and hate themselves so much they turned around and took it out on the others, who then took it out on the next, and the next. Every time. 

Humans did it so well, punishing themselves. Modern culture and desire were the delivery systems of real misery. But you couldn’t tell that to traditional Demons like Depach. 

Hargrove tapped on the table. “Look, did you know that every time a major sports team loses, which is literally every time, since there’s always two teams, men go home, take off their coats and shoes and whatever else, and beat their wives?” 

Depach cocked his head to the side. “You reach them all?” 

The beginnings of a headache was building behind his eyes. Stupid human body. Hargrove sighed, slumping back down. “Yeah.” 

Scattered muttering. “Well done.” 

Hargrove didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t reach them all. He didn’t reach any of them. No one made them do it. Hargrove didn’t have anything to do with it. But it was no use trying to explain to the old types. They couldn't grow, couldn't change with the times. 

Hargrove only knew about it at all because of Harrington, his Angel counterpart. He caught up with him in New York in the fifties and found him setting up a party for the soon to be defeated Red Sox fans. 

“You know this won’t work,” Hargrove said, stringing up another streamer. “The ones you’re trying to catch either won’t come, or they will, and they’ll still go home and-”

“Raise hell?” Harrington sent him a winning smile from across the room. 

“Hell on Earth, maybe.” Hargrove glared. “And don’t put this on us. No Demon tells them to, whispering in their ears on the trains and in their cars. They just do it.” 

Harrington nodded. “I know.”

Hargrove hopped up to sit on the table, bored. “Got your Master to thank for that, really.” 

“Free will is free will,” Harrington said, unbothered. He never seemed bothered by much. 

“It is what it is?” 

Harrington looked at him, through him. He had these big eyes, deep and shiny. When he looked at you, it was with his full attention, and today he was in an ineffable sort of mood. Very annoying. “What else would it be?” 

Hargrove threw the streamers at his head. 

He wished he was shooting the shit with his arch nemesis instead of stuck here, in St. Louis, regional hotbed of Demonic activity. It was boring, being bad all the time. Being around the bad all the time. His head lolled on his neck, rolling towards the window as the others droned on. Beaz tempted a priest. Again. Vick inspired a musician to sin. Great. Two down, seven billion to go guys. At least Hargrove had vision- and a functioning understanding of scale. 

“As for the final matter,” Depach flipped open a folder. “There appears to be some unregistered Demonic activity going on in Indiana. Amatuer stuff, but we can’t have it. Any volunteers?” 

Hargrove didn’t move, biting his lip on the inside to keep from smirking. Harrington was in Indiana. Volunteering would be the quickest way to not get chosen-

“How about Hargrove?” 

“What!” He rocketed to his feet, intentionally knocking over his very expensive chair, almost believing it himself. “No, fuck that, I’m in the middle of-” 

Fire sprung up in Depach’s eyes. Literally. “You will go and you will think about how you might better serve while you do so! Dismissed.” 

Hargrove left in a huff, anger and pleasure always so close at hand, always so intimately related for him. It heated him from the inside so he didn’t feel the cold as he swung his leg over the motorcycle that hadn’t been there a moment before, in full leathers this time. A helmet just for the look. To make them look. 

He smiled. “See you soon, Angel.” 

***

The ‘all leather’ look was maybe a bit much for Hawkins, Middle of Nowhere, Indiana. Hargrove swung his leg off the motorcycle and went for all denim instead, shirt, jacket, and pants, but left the earring and necklace for good measure. He didn’t want to look _too_ innocent, even here. 

He took the cigarette out of his mouth and stuck it behind his ear. The heat felt good against his skin. Familiar. Never went out, not even in the rain. A tiny red light in the dark. The smell of smoke. All the good parts of home, with none of the boring torturing parts. Best of both worlds. Other than Harrington, the smoke had been his most constant companion over the years. 

He looked around, confidant in his opinion that Indiana basically sucked. There were some nice, peaceful type places, but those were thick on the ground in this world. The cities were terrible. So, so boring. 

Someone bumped into him as they passed, while he was just minding his own business on the sidewalk. To be fair, they were avoiding his bike, which was also on the sidewalk, but still. Hargrove whirled on his heels to yell at them. “Hey, asshole, forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares!” 

“Or worse.”

Hargrove spun around again, making a complete turn, and grinned. “Harrington.” 

“Agent of Darkness,” Harrington smirked, and Hargrove felt it like a punch to the chest. He shook his head, reaching up to get the cigarette. Harrington just stood there, all Angelic. Hands stuffed down in his pockets. Dressed all preppy. Adorable. 

He had the kind of face that made you want to mess up his hair. The nicest kid in class, but trying to be a little bit of a bad boy on the side. That was the human influence. He looked a little off for the times, but it was a decent effort. A polo, which wasn’t cool and clearly a few decades old, not to mention the vest, but the hair was right, big bangs curling down into his forehead, not too short in the back. He looked more or less the same as he’d done for the past six thousand years. 

“You look ridiculous.” 

Hargrove rolled his eyes. “I look cool, you just can’t tell because you have shitty taste.” 

Harrington wrinkled his nose. “Classless.”

“Asshole-”

“Excuse me?” 

They both turned to see a kid standing a few feet away, looking between them with an open sort of interest. Hargrove suppressed a sigh as Harrington turned towards him fully, the care-taking instinct pouring off of him in waves. Hargrove could see his fingers itching to smooth over whatever scrape or bruise they were about to be accosted with and didn’t have time for. There was a Rogue Demon on the loose and apparently Hargrove was the only one who was pretending to care. 

“Hey,” Harrington said, smiling. “I’m Harri-” Hargrove dropped his hand down on his shoulder, hard. 

“Steven.” 

“No, uh, Steve.” Harrington glared at him. “Fine. And this is my friend, William.” 

Absolutely not. “Billy.” 

The kid blinked at them. “Uh, ok. Are you here about the monster?” 

Actual light shone off Steve-not-Steven. “Yes!” 

“No!” Hargrove, Billy now, he guessed, said. “Really, Angel?” 

Steve elbowed him right in the ribs. “Come on, he wants to help!” 

Billy grunted on impact shook his head as Steve worked out a meeting with a _child_ and his other little friends. Annoying, but not surprising. Kids had a sense about these things, more so than adults. Something got lost in translation with humans, even the deeply religious ones never picked the supernatural out like a kid did. 

As they watched him walk away on his tiny little legs, Billy crossed his arms. “I hate you.” 

Steve snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” 

Billy bit his tongue to keep from laughing. It was a fair point. 

They’d only been working together for almost as long as they’d been counterparts. After thousands of years, thousands of meetings, they had more in common with each other than they did with anyone else on their respective sides. It made sense, even if it was a bit embarrassing that his closest thing to a friend on Earth was his natural enemy and professional rival. But so long away from home, so far away from the ones calling the shots, it made sense for them come to an agreement. 

It was either that, or constantly fight each other, and Billy liked to keep his weekends open. So they worked together. A bit. Enough. 

It was like a non-aggression pact. Nobody won, but then no one really lost either. Balance without a lot of messy collateral damage. So in a way, everybody won, and he got to pick and pull at Steve’s defenses, get under his skin and play a little. And Steve got to challenge him and try (see: fail) to trip him up. Win-win. 

Sometimes it meant ‘I take Michigan and you take Maine’. Sometimes it was tit-for tat. If Billy had to be all the way out in bumfuck nowhere Florida, already a hotbed of absolute chaos and no small amount of evil, it made sense for him to take a short detour into the swamp to deliver a brief blessing. They were both Angels, technically. At the start, anyway. Steve did the same for him. 

Billy used to feel kind of bad about this. He was still a Demon, after all. But they had both adjusted and the idea of Steve disgruntledly cursing people was so good. Billy could just see him shedding a single tear while setting a banana peel out on the road for someone to slip on. Gold.

In any case, the relative Authorities didn’t seem to care who did anything, as long as it got done. With seven billion souls one couldn’t really afford to get caught up in the details. Plus, Billy secretly thought that they wanted them down here trying to corrupt each other. It was the age old dance, and they were fucking great at it. 

“We should talk.” 

Billy nodded, flicking his cigarette. “Know a place?” 

Steve jerked his chin at something over Billy’s shoulder. 

Billy didn’t have to look. Theaters were their thing. That and 24-hour diners. “What’s playing?”

“Uh-” Steve squinted. “Temple of Doom? That can’t be right.” 

Billy’s eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like my kind of scene.”

***

Billy sat down and immediately had his feet up on the seat. Well used to this, Steve had preemptively smoothed it over with the locals by bringing them to the very back, completely oblivious to the implication of two boys of their supposed ages doing so. Billy grinned at the woman who shot them a glare every few minutes, pleased as pie when Steve caught him at it and rolled his eyes, the little shit. 

Being on Earth for so long had blurred their edges. Billy was self-aware enough to admit that he was that much softer, but Steve was a little more sharp. Billy one time saw him lay a curse on a man who kicked a dog so that every step he took pained him, slowly driving him insane. That had been about five hundred years ago. Who knew what he’d do today. The Avenging Angel, fighting evil one rude deli customer and heartbreaker at a time. 

“Tell me again why we’re meeting up with a bunch of kids?” Billy asked, leaning close in the dark. 

“ _Dustin_ and his friends,” Steve said, oh so specifically, “are helping us track the Demon.” 

“Little do they know.” 

“Oh, I think he clocked you.” Steve smiled like honey. “Kids like that are smart.” 

Billy tilted his head. “-er than they look?” 

“Shut up, you’ve just never liked them.” 

“I don’t like the way they move.” Billy threw a piece of popcorn at the woman to get her to turn. No one could hear them talk, not under the ward he’d laid, but he wanted her to wonder what they were saying anyway. “They look terrible, all unfinished.” 

Hell had no children. There were fully grown Demons, and fully grown human souls. If anything demonstrated to him that he made the right choice, it was that. 

Steve sighed. To be fair, this was a well-recycled argument. “Well, they aren’t finished, that’s the whole-”

“It’s uncivilized.” 

“You’re one to talk.” 

“I know! And this is me saying it anyway.” 

Frustration trickled over his expression, terrible and brief. “Do you ever stop talking?”

“Woah there, kind of demanding for an Angel.”

“Shut up.”

“You first.” Billy picked at his fingers. “Aren't you supposed to thwart evil?”

Steve hummed, his attention back on the screen. “Or encourage humans to do it. That’s better, even.” 

“Score some good points for the big guy.” 

“Don’t be vulgar.” 

That startled Billy into a laugh that passed to Steve in a matter of seconds, and the next time Mrs. Bigot looked over her shoulder she caught an eyeful of giggling teens with their heads pressed together. The look in her eyes was absolutely vile. 

Billy sat back against the cheap upholstered seat, relaxed. “Whatever, less work for me and maybe I’ll even get a commendation.”

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Billy hummed. It used to be that he got commendations for things he never even did. He’d been minding his own business in Tulsa in 1921, trying to think up the best ways to turn the newly invented traffic light into a vehicle for evil, when the people took it upon themselves to start up a race riot. ‘The massacre’, they called it, when they called to congratulate him. Such chaos, they said, and so quickly! But it was all them. Anger and resentment catching fire. 

Humans. They punished themselves, they punished each other. And it was horrible. 

Billy stared at the woman until she paled and looked away. Then he smirked. If only she knew. 

Flirting was one thing, and it was one thing that Steve was very good at, but Angels were sexless unless they put the effort in. Billy did. He put in the kind of effort that would make his department proud on his worst day. It had been his project for the past few thousand years or so to aggressively encourage that process in Steve as well. 

He shifted in his seat, slinging his arm along the back of Steve’s seat. Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing and shook his head. “Ah, the relentlessness of temptation.” 

“Oh, you’re tempted?” 

“Tried and tested.” Steve turned in his seat to look at him in the eye. “And I pass every time.” 

“First time for everything.” Billy leaned his head in, and Steve looked down at his mouth. This was his speciality. 

“Some things aren’t worth trying at all.” 

“Maybe you’re being selfish. Don’t you think that maybe love could change me for the better?” 

Steve smiled. No teeth, just his eyes. “So could self restraint. Or, for that matter, a pure, untainted love.” 

Billy grinned. “Yeah? I think my love for you is the purest thing about me. Closest I can get,” he said, and then immediately turned to face front. Dammit. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Steve continue to stare at him, the cigarette burning against Billy’s ear giving him the bareest red glow. “Little close to home?” 

Billy hummed and kept his eyes on Indiana Jones while Steve shifted back, leaning into the curl of his arm. 

***

“There shouldn't be a Demon here.” 

Billy rolled his eyes as they rolled down the road at a good eighty mile clip. Over the radio, something loud and good was playing. “Well shit, Steve, what a fascinating analysis. Tell us more.” 

“Let him talk!” One of the kids piped up. 

“Yeah!” That was the girl. There were five kids and two supernatural beings jammed in a car made for two people. Steve had stretched it to make them fit and Billy had stolen it to make it useful, but still. 

Billy tightened his hands on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, then red. Beside him, Steve was cracking up, not at all showing angelic compassion or restraint. 

“What do we think?” Steve went on as though he hadn’t been interrupted, reaching over to turn the music down. “A hole in the universe? Someone messing around with summoning? It’s not quite right, whatever it is. Not a great sign for Things to Come.” 

Billy leaned over to push him in the shoulder and turn the music back up in one smooth motion. “Don’t be a drama queen.” 

“No, really.” One of the kids leaned into the space between the two front seats and Billy valiantly stopped himself from putting his palm right on his face and shoving him back where he belonged. “Whatever it is, it’s making a big mess. People have gone missing all over town, including our friend Will.” 

“Oh, really?” Steve shot Billy a look that very clearly said that this was his dog that shit on the rug so he had better clean it up. 

Billy rolled his eyes, knowing Steve could see it even under his sunglasses. Steve was still fundamentally Good, but being around humans for so long had made him a bit of an asshole. Just sometimes, just a bit, and most of the time Billy lived for it. Not right now. 

They hit a bump in the road, one of many the state of Indiana had provided them with, and the kid’s head collided with Billy’s shoulder. He put his hand on the kid’s face and pushed him back where he belonged. Steve swatted at him and then did a double take. 

“Oh come on, don’t speed.”

“Don’t speed?” Billy said, letting his tone drip all over the car. “Are you serious?”

“There are kids in the car!”

“Well I’m not gonna crash!” Billy yelled, slapping on the steering wheel in time to the song. 

“Guys!” The kid had a pair of lungs on him. Even Billy turned in his seat. The kid, Dustin, he remembered, pointed out the windshield. “I see something.” 

***

It was dark in the woods, which was the normal sort of state of being for creepy woods in middle America, but this was a not normal _amount_ of dark. 

Billy looked around carefully. It ate the light of their flashlights, making them flicker and hum loudly on and off in their hands. The rot, the ultranatural stillness of the air. It was a Demon alright, a nasty one, probably not even wearing a human shape. Probably reigning down tactless, pointless terror, off-script like a total amateur. 

He drew his fingers along a deep gash in a tree, weeping sap and pus. You couldn't just send any Demon to Earth. It took a certain sort. This kind wasn’t good for anything except building up the hellish ambiance, a pure creation of Hell, not a fallen Angel. It had never known light or humanity, couldn’t learn, couldn’t do anything but eat and kill and hate. Boring. 

He stuck his hands in his pockets. “What do we think, boys?” 

The girl glared at him. When the boys saw this, they backed her up on it and glared too. They were all wearing these outfits like they were maybe going to do construction in a barbie castle or something. Even Steve had tied the red thing they gave him to his face to be supportive. It annoyed Billy that it looked roguish and cool on him. None of them offered Billy anything, which, to be fair, was a good call on their part. 

Steve, ever the good sport, answered him. “The disturbance isn’t too far away, I think we should stick to the tracks.” Bobbing heads all around from the kids. Billy shrugged. 

One of the kids rocked on his heels, like he was making himself tall. “Maybe we should split up.” 

Steve and Billy both turned to tell the kid off, but the others got there first. 

“No!” 

“That’s never a good idea-”

“Yeah-” 

The kids headed on their merry way, up the tracks, leaving Billy and Steve behind. Steve watched after them, pulling the red handkerchief down around his neck. 

Billy tilted his head in their direction. “Those are ours.” 

Steve scoffed. “Don’t say that.” 

“I’m serious. They’re firecrackers. Only boring people go to Heaven.” 

Steve pulled a face. This was a familiar line for them. Billy pointed out, rightly, that pretty much all interesting people, including every artist ever, all the good musicians, the really fun ones, end up in Hell, and Steve made faces and came up with really terrible counter-examples because Billy was _right_. 

Billy shrugged. “Wielded appropriately, free will lands you in Hell. It just does.”

“Not true.” 

“Very true. But hey? I guess it’s all part of that Divine Plan you’re always going on about.” 

Steve’s eyes shone. “It is.” 

Another classic, this one more weighted on Steve’s side. He would swear up and down that Hell couldn’t really do anything without it being part of the overall Divine Plan. God created the Devil, and the Devil always carried a little bit of that Plan with him in whatever he did. To corrupt water, the Devil made ice, only to find snowflakes, some of the most beautiful structures ever conceived of. So, sure. 

The bone thrown, Billy shrugged. Then a girl ran out of the trees at full speed and plowed right into Steve, sending them both sprawling. Billy stared, grinning as the girl bounced back up and let out a frustrated sort of scream at the now very broken camera in her hands. 

“Shit! This isn’t even- we _need_ these.” 

Steve, who hadn’t even run into anyone, looked immensely guilty and scrambled for it. “Oh here, let me take a look.” 

Billy grabbed for him. “Oh, don’t-”

But it was too late. Steve laid his hands on it, and the thing hummed with power for a frozen moment, the world turning to silver glass and honeyed air for a long breath, coming out the other side completely repaired, and completely changed. 

“Great.” Billy turned away, hands on his hips. “That’s really what we need Steve, a nice over-the-top miracle.” 

“How-” The girl turned the camera around in her hands. It was a much newer model, and the lens was at least twice the size of the original. It looked expensive. “This isn’t-” 

Steve looked extremely embarrassed. “Uh, well-” 

The girl looked up, her eyes wide. “Are you...not from around here?” 

“Yeah!” Steve said, very loudly. Panicking and overcompensating. Billy rolled his eyes. “We’re normal people. How are you?” 

The girl rocked back a step away from the enthusiasm, still staring down at the new and improved gadget. “I-” 

One of the kids popped up out of nowhere. “Uh- Nancy?”

She jumped about a foot. “Mike?”

The group looked between them like they were watching a tennis match as Nancy dropped the camera and ran to him. They stopped just short of embracing. Family, then. “What are you doing here? It’s not safe.” 

“We know! We’re looking for Will.” 

“No, we’re looking for the Demon,” Billy said, under his breath. 

“So were we,” Nancy said, grim faced and pale. At her side, Steve perked up. 

“We?”

***

The Saving of Will and Jonathan Byers went down like this: The Very Smart Kids led them to the quarry using compasses and what Billy suspected was some kind of innate power on the girl’s part. Nancy led the Kids away, staying up high while Billy and Steve went further in. The Brothers Byers were not seen upon first inspection, and Billy said very loudly that they were probably dead and got a smack on the back of the head. The Demon, creature of hell and Pain in the Ass, popped up out of the water like a weasel, and they discovered (see: should have previously guessed) that it could hurt supernatural beings, like, say, Angels. 

Billy lost it. 

Steve rallied. 

In the ensuing victory march, the Brothers Byers and about eight other random people came stumbling out of the woods, filthy but alive, to much rejoicing. 

*** 

“So, Angel, that was fun.” Billy sipped the cigarette out from behind his ear and took a drag. The smoke filled him, warming him from the inside out. Like home, but only the good parts. He slumped down against the wall, pressing back against the brick and mortar. Fire, meet brimstone. 

Beside him, Steve rolled his eyes. Billy could feel it. They were leaned up against a the wall of the General Store, watching the town go by. All the humans with their little lives, little dramas, same as it ever was for last thousand years, and the one before that. 

“Was it?” Steve asked, clearly still annoyed about what happened at the quarry. 

Billy grinned, showing off his teeth, and Steve punched him in the shoulder. Not very hard, though. Apparently he scored some points saving his life. Corporeal form, at least. He would have been back, but it would have been massively annoying to wait for him. The paperwork in Heaven had been so backed up since the Industrial Revolution. 

“More exciting than your usual, though.” Billy puffed out his chest. “Yes, heavenly father, I petted three dogs today.”

“Shut up.” The pinch of frustration on Steve’s face was achingly familiar, the one constant in Billy’s long life. He always made this face that very clearly asked Billy if he was serious, which he almost never was. Sometimes he sighed, hands on his hips. Ridiculous. 

Billy couldn’t stop smiling. “I told them they were good boys.”

Steve shook his head, smiling to himself in that distracted way he had, eyes darting up and down the street. He was always smiling when he did things, mixed the feeling in, like he was overflowing with it. He smiled when he talked, when he spotted a good or interesting thing, when he heard a song. Billy wondered if he smiled into his kisses. 

“Ugh.” Billy flicked the cigarette and stuck it back behind his ear, already antsy for the next thing. “Thank fuck that’s over. Can you imagine the real thing?” 

Steve leaned back against the wall next to him, his heat coming through where their arms touched. Quick to forgive. “What, the real apocalypse?” 

“Yeah, the big one.” 

“Don’t be an idiot, we’re thousands of years out from that.” 

“Oh, really Angel, do you know something I don’t? Because- Oh hang on, you see this?” Billy straightened up. “Hey, Miss Nancy and Mr. Trouble! Get lost again yet?” 

The pair stopped dead at the sight of them, Steve with his apologetic smile and Billy with his boiling mania. Jonathan recovered first, apparently spending time up close and personal with a untethered Demon put some hair on his chest, and drifted closer, holding up the Blessed Camera. 

“Hey.” He was all floppy and skinny, and his outfit was a disgrace to fashion. “Thanks for this, man.” 

Nancy also smiled at Steve again, which Billy took really well. 

“Bye now!” Billy flicked his fingers and made her trip- straight into Jonathan, who caught her by the waist, their eyes locking in a grip Billy knew well as they teetered back into their normal lives. 

“Ha!” Steve let out a laugh like a bark as soon as they were across the street, whipping around to smack Billy in the arm. “A little good and a little bad there?” 

“What can I say?” Billy flicked the cigarette and then stuck it back behind his ear. “I’ve been corrupted.” 

From behind, a woman clearly her throat. “Excuse me.” 

They both turned their heads to see her standing just outside the doors to the store, her actually very nice face all pinched and twisted. The lady from the theater. Steve straightened up, eyes wide, all charm, not getting it. “Yes?” 

Billy shifted even closer, sliding his hand along Steve’s side and down towards his hip. The woman’s eyes nearly popped right out of her head. “Problem?”

She didn’t like that, her expression souring even more. “You might show a little restraint, boys.” 

Steve cocked his head, always expecting a rational, neighborly response by default. He’d buy flowers for his worst enemy. Had done, actually. 

Billy doubled down, sticking his tongue out wide and catching an elbow in his side for the trouble. 

The women turned white, then bright red. “Well I- it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.”

“Oh, was it Karen?” Billy asked, all teeth, and she rocked back a step, eyes wide. “Were you there?” 

She skittered back, and Steve shot him a disapproving look that cracked immediately when they locked eyes. 

“Billy and Steve, actually.”

Billy laughed so hard smoke came out of his ears and Steve had to catch him around the middle, shaking with him. 

***

The motorcycle was right where Steve made Billy move it, off the path, in an alley where it was unlikely to be noticed or messed with. They rode out of town together, Steve at his back, a nice cool press against his constantly overheating engine. Billy would have made a crack about it, but they were about two thousand years past that joke. It just made sense to move together. 

With the wind in his face and Steve wrapped around his back, Billy felt the touch of Grace, just like he remembered, his wings wrapped around himself and then stretching back into forever. A grin came over him, stretching wide, and he revved the bike, driving them faster, faster. 

It was more Billy’s speed than Steve’s, but when Billy leaned to the side to make the bike turn, Steve moved with him. Frail, human bodies shifting together, moving in tandem. Heat spread from Billy’s chest to his hands, and Steve made a noise into the back of his neck. He could probably feel it. Billy felt like he would steam in the rain. 

The bike slowed, shutting down in steps, then it rolled to a stop in the middle of the otherwise deserted highway. 

Billy looked over his shoulder. “What gives?” 

Steve braced his hands on Billy’s shoulders to boost himself up, swinging his leg around the back of the machine. “You know what. Come on, let’s go in there.” 

‘In there’ was the woods. Billy rolled his eyes and yelled at his back. “Haven’t we had enough of the wilderness for one day?” 

Predictably, Steve ignored him, picking his way through the trees and brush in his preppy boy outfit. Billy glared after him. 

In the high impact, heated moments after the wild Demon had been defeated but before Steve had actually healed, there had been an absolute golden opportunity of temptation that Billy had passed on. Steve was weak, and vulnerable, and they were alone together under an outcropping of rock, their human disguises fraying, and Steve would have let Billy do anything, anything at all to him. He would have welcomed it, raw as they both were, close as they’d been for the past four thousand years. The want poured off of him in waves, resonating with what Billy had been feeling for years, centuries. 

And when it came down to it, Billy didn’t take advantage of him. He didn’t push him over the edge and make him Fall. Because Steve didn’t want to, and for the most part Billy wanted Steve to have what he wanted. 

A shiver passed through him. The harm it would do to Harrington to Fall. The devastation. 

Heaven didn’t suit Billy, it really didn’t. Some of them fell in a vague sort of way, shedding their heavenly bonds in pieces and scraps. Billy- Hargrove, Demon, most disobedient, jumped. 

Harrington belonged up there. His goodness moved with him, as natural as breathing. And Hargrove had the chance to pull him down, drag him into the ground and roll around in the dirt with him, and he didn’t take it. 

All this time Hargrove thought that he was pulling Harrington down, but really Harrington reached into his chest and yanked him up. A bit. Maybe. 

Hargrove jumped down off the motorcycle, leaving it behind as a twisted, metal wreck, and followed Harrington into the woods. It was getting dark again, not that he needed the sun to see. It might have been cold, Hargrove couldn’t tell. He stalked through the trees, kicking up leaves and pushing branches out of his way. 

“Hey!” 

Harrington’s voice came from above. “Hey yourself, come up here.” 

Hargrove jerked his head up and saw the Angel smirking down at him from up in a treehouse that looked about one stiff wind from falling down. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You think I’m going to come up there and play kid stuff with you? I’m not gonna be the nice guy.” 

That got him laughed at. “Nice?” 

“You know what I- fuck it, you know what?” Hargrove gave it up and started pulling himself up the tree. Most of the old ladder pieces were gone, rotted away. There wasn’t even a house nearby anymore. A hand appeared in front of his face and he took it, letting Harrington haul him up through the cut out hole and into the box. 

“I-” Harrington cut himself off when Hargrove used his hand to tug him forward, swinging them both away from the hole and into the wall, front to front. All of Harrington’s breath rushed out, right into Hargrove’s face, and he breathed it in, taking it for himself. 

“You?” Hargrove slid his leg in between Harrington’s, pressing them as close as they could get. “You are in trouble.” 

This was Hargrove’s job. His real job, the one that meant something to him, his life. He challenged Harrington. He might not take him unawares when he was injured, but that didn’t mean he wouldn't keep on tempting him to choose.

Harrington’s eyes were as wide as they ever were, taking in all of Hargrove, right to the bone and beyond, to the real parts of him. “Yeah?” 

“Yes.” Hargrove leaned in, pressing his face to Harrington’s neck, and gave him the nicest, most chaste kiss of his long life. The shiver that shuddered through him rocked Hargrove to the core. He looked back up, meeting his eyes. “If you choose me, you’re really gonna choose me, in the light of day, no flinching. No pretending.”

Harrington didn’t blink, though he did blush. He wore all is feelings right on his face like that, all the time. The honestly of divinity. He reached up between them and held Hargrove’s face. “You too.” 

What happened when an Angel, a being of pure light and affection and righteousness, kissed a Demon? Hargrove hadn’t really thought about it. Then it happened, and he knew perfection. 

When their lips touched, cool water flowed through him, easing his edges. Something inside him uncurled, like a flower unfolding to the sun. The surge of it, his answering fire, hit the water and made hot steam, pouring out all around them. They shifted against each other, and when Harrington opened his mouth, Hargrove followed, sealing them together, then coming apart. 

“See?” Harrington breathed his breath, and pulled back just far enough to move his lip on his own. “Love is purity.” 

Hargrove could only pant, heaving like he’d run to the ends of the earth. It was awful, all this feeling. The coolness and heat. He wanted more, all of it, and they couldn’t. 

“This isn’t going to work out,” Hargrove said, suddenly furious when the coolness of Harrington’s hands didn’t leave his face. It was his nature. A tendency to reckless anger that mixed with laughter. Some people had a switch where Harrington had a sliding scale. It was always on, his engine always running. 

Harrington smiled, unconcerned with how Hargrove had his sweater wrapped around his hand, pulling him in tight. “Sure it will.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you have _faith_.” Hargrove pushed him back, forgetting that he didn’t have anywhere to go, pressed up against the wall where Hargrove put him, and Harrington caught his hand. He didn’t let go. “It’s bullshit. We’re immortal, the Apocalypse is going to hit sometime, and then it’s fighting and death, possibly literally, even for us, and then what? One side wins. And that’s assuming we don’t get called back before. We’ll be separated. There’s nothing to-”

Harrington jabbed him in the ribs. “Get ahead of yourself?” 

His mouth fell open. “Fuck you.” 

“No, fuck you. Our bond is true,” Harrington said, and the weight in his eyes betrayed his age. They weren’t teenagers, not really. They were both of them as old as the universe itself. “I don’t know how. Maybe it’s not for us to know. I just don’t believe that we’ll get left behind. God doesn’t leave anyone behind, not really.”

“Uh huh. Even me?” 

“Especially you.” 

Hargrove huffed and looked away. “Yeah, well. I’m not a joiner, so I don’t know what you think-”

“I just said that I don’t know! We don’t know, ok? But it’s fixable. It’s right.” 

Hargrove watched him out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, well, I break things.”

Harrington laughed. “Yeah? I fix them. Maybe that’s it.”

The surge rose up again, an electricity flowing between them through their hands. Hargrove followed it down and up again until it led him back to Harrington’s lips, sealing them together in a kiss that made the Angel gasp. When Hargrove pulled away, they had mirror smiles. 

“Maybe.” 

When they got back to the road, the bike had fixed itself and added a sidecar, which Harrington cheerfully detached and pushed off the side of the road, climbing into the front position. Hargrove rolled his eyes and let him, hooking him in the circle of his arms from behind. 

Harrington looked over his shoulder as he was revving up the bike, and when Hargrove leaned in, Harrington just barely brushed their lips together before turning his head to whisper in Hargrove’s ear. “I hereby bless you in the name of the Lord.”

“Asshole!” Hargrove roared with laughter, louder than the engine as they took off down the empty road. “No!” 

Maybe they had corrupted each other just enough to both be alright when the time came.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm at paradiamond.tumblr.com ~
> 
> Ephesians 6:12 - For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.
> 
> also,
> 
> Forever is our today - Queen, Who Wants To Live Forever


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